18. Maisie #2
But I still close my eyes. Just for a second. Because it’s too much to look at him and not want it to mean something.
The room goes quiet.
His breathing shifts—slower, heavier.
When I open my eyes again, he’s already out, his head tilted toward me.
And I’m still lying there, wide awake, my heart pounding, every part of me buzzing from the memory of his voice in the dark and the way he looked at me.
But I don’t move. I tell myself I’ll stay five more minutes. Just long enough to let my pulse settle. Just long enough to stop memorizing the shape of his mouth.
Five more minutes.
That’s all.
But my eyelids grow heavy. The buzzing in my chest fades into something slower, softer. And by the time my thoughts blur into dreams, I forget I ever meant to leave.
When I wake up, everything’s warm.
The sheets are twisted around my legs, the room dim except for sunlight slipping through the slats in the curtains. Somewhere downstairs, muffled voices murmur, but I can’t make out a word.
It takes a moment to realize where I am. The unfamiliar mattress. My back grazing something solid. Someone.
Austin.
Oh god.
My brain snaps online all at once, and I freeze.
His arm’s wrapped around my waist, his hand resting low on my hip, and his palm spread wide. I’m pressed completely against him, my back to chest. All of me against all of him.
And there’s definitely something pressed against my butt.
I try to move—just a little, a subtle shift—but the second I do, his fingers flex on my waist, pulling me back the tiniest bit. He sighs, groggy and amused, pressing his face closer to my shoulder.
“Maisie,” he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep, “you keep rubbing up on me like that, I’m gonna think it’s on purpose.”
My whole body locks up. “I didn’t mean to—I must’ve rolled over?—”
He laughs, warm and low in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Mmm. Not complaining.”
I press my hands to the mattress, weighing how fast I can escape without making this weirder. But then he shifts behind me, slower this time, his nose brushing the curve of my shoulder.
“You smell really good,” he murmurs, still drowsy. “Is that like… coconut shampoo or something?”
“I’m gonna need you to stop talking,” I mutter, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He laughs again, his hand still resting on my waist. “I’m just saying. You wake up in my bed, wrapped around me, smelling all sweet, and I’m the bad guy for noticing?”
I lift myself off the bed. His hand slips off my waist as I move, and I twist around, glaring over my shoulder.
He’s a mess—eyes half-shut, hair sticking out in every direction, pillow lines on his cheek. The blanket’s pooled low on his hips. Somehow, that makes him even hotter.
“I didn’t mean to stay over. I just… slept.”
“You’re real squirmy this morning,” he says, lips twitching with amusement.
“That’s because your—” I gesture toward him, flustered. “Your body was on mine.”
He hums, shifting onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow. “I could always help you relax, y’know…”
My brain short-circuits.
He pauses, then, with a slow grin he adds, “Some hands-on tutoring.”
My face is on fire. “You’re still drunk,” I mutter.
Austin tuts, shaking his head. “Hungover, maybe. But not drunk.”
He doesn’t look away, his lips sleep-swollen, eyes bleary and soft but still so focused and locked on me.
I grab my tote off the desk chair, my fingers fumbling with the strap.
My shirt’s all creased, my bra definitely crooked, and I can feel mascara smudged somewhere under one eye.
Great. Love that for me . I rake a hand through my hair, trying to flatten the mess without a mirror, even though I know there’s no fixing any of it.
Behind me, Austin flops onto his back with a sigh. “You’re not staying?”
I keep my eyes on my bag as I stuff everything inside. “I have tutoring in twenty.”
He makes a soft, sleepy protest noise, and I glance back. I hate that my heart stutters a little when I meet his eyes.
He’s dangerous like this. Loose and unguarded and warm in a way that makes me want to crawl right back in beside him.
“Come back after?” he asks.
It shouldn’t mean anything. It probably doesn’t. But the way he says it—like he actually wants me around—makes something twist behind my ribs.
I press my lips together, twisting them into a small smile. “Maybe.”
He breaks into a grin, those light hazel eyes twinkling.
I hover at the door for a second, then glance back. “I’m gonna go.”
“See ya, Freckles.” He stretches, arms over his head. “Best cuddle buddy ever.”
I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips as I close the door behind me.
I take a breath, swing my bag over my shoulder, and head down the stairs.
Halfway to the front door, I spot Ryan, Logan, and Nathan, cleaning up in the hallway. Trash bags in hand, stacking empty cups and pizza boxes.
They stop the second they see me.
Logan’s eyebrows shoot up, a broom in his hand.
Ryan freezes with a beer can dangling from two fingers.
Nathan doesn’t even blink—just looks between me and the stairs like he’s connecting all the dots in real time.
I clear my throat. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Didn’t say a word,” Logan says, his mouth twitching with amusement.
My face flames hotter than it should as I duck my head and slip past them without looking back.
I close the front door behind me and grip my bag tighter as I walk toward campus.
A small smile curls on my lips as I remember the way Austin looked at me this morning. The words he said.
I know I shouldn’t read too much into it. I can’t afford to get my hopes up.
Because if I start believing it means more than it does, I’m the one who’ll end up hurt.
I have to be careful.
Even if I want nothing more than to go back into that bed.